


Boyfriends Close-Up with a Wide Angle Lens Wearing Hats

by orphan_account



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 13:54:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13296276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: I started this like 6 months ago and just sorta left it hanging around on my computer half finished.





	Boyfriends Close-Up with a Wide Angle Lens Wearing Hats

**Author's Note:**

> I started this like 6 months ago and just sorta left it hanging around on my computer half finished.

Sometimes, Stan Marsh misses being in elementary school. Not because the homework had been easier back then. Not because he had been more popular in the smaller circle of classmates, less competition from more confident alpha males. Not because he had been considered a star athlete or a great catch among the girls,whereas now he sits solidly in the category of mediocrity. Not because there had been less people overall, shorter lunch lines, and less awkwardness with both boys and girls.

No, mostly, Stan misses the weirdness of his childhood.

And man, had his elementary school been a weird place. He'd seen a teacher stick a rodent up another man's ass. He'd been taken hostage at an old west reenactment camp. He'd had his penis measured, along with every other boy's in the grade, and had it posted in the hallway for everyone to see. Good or bad, every day at school had been an adventure.

Now it's one, long, continuous day of dull nothingness.

Even after school it isn't any better. The teachers assign so much homework that most days he barely finds time to sleep, let alone discover an ancient Indian burial site or hunt chupacabras. And the little free time he does have is devoted to Kyle, his boyfriend of, well, the years depend on who you ask. His dad claims he had been dating the redhead since they were toddlers and apparently tried to stick his dick in the other boy's mouth, though Stan is pretty sure that latter part is something his dad made up. Kyle claims they started dating in sixth grade, when they first started experimenting with wet, open-mouthed kisses in Stan's bedroom. Stan doesn't consider them as really having started dating until seventh grade, when Stan had taken Kyle out to an Italian place for dinner and insisted on paying for his meal, because that's what dates do for each other.

Stan misses those clandestine make out sessions. They had been exciting, new, full of wonder and awkwardness. Their touches had been seeking, experimenting, begging to go further, sooner than later.

And therein lies the problem. They haven't gone further. Stan Marsh, average seventeen-year-old boy in every way, is a virgin. Because he's dating a boy who is having some “complications” with his sexuality.

He won't talk to Stan about it. Not really. Every time Stan tries to take it further, tries to push his hand up Kyle's shirt or move the redhead's hand so he can feel the bulge in his crotch, he recoils. As if there were a literal snake in Stan's pants instead of only a metaphorical one. He had asked him before if Kyle wasn't attracted to him and the boy had insisted he was, but claimed it wasn't that simple.

“I don't know Stan,” he had sighed. “Maybe I'm asexual. Or just frigid. I'm not scared, not exactly, but maybe I am? Your body can be frightened without your head realizing it. Stan, stop laughing, I'm not making this up, it's true. I like kissing you, I just don't know if I'm capable of actual sexual feelings towards another human being.”

Towards another human being. So, what, Kyle is like, attracted to trees or lamps or something? Maybe he's secretly a furry and doesn't want to tell him. He could get a fursuit if that's what would get Kyle's engine revving. Personally, he thinks he'd make a good dog. Or like, something more exotic, like a binturong. Binturongs smell like popcorn and Kyle always devours that shit by the handful when they go to the movies. Maybe Stan should get Kyle a fox costume for his birthday.

“Stan?” Startled, he looks up, realizing most of his second period math class has already left the room. It's Heidi waving her hand in front of his face, trying to catch his attention. See, there you go. Another excellent example of his awesomely weird childhood. This girl had once swallowed a jar of waterbears in front of some NFL team owners wanting to use them for some weird seat filling scheme. Now she's just an averagely nice, averagely intelligent, slightly overweight girl who wasn't smart enough to make it into the advance math class with Wendy and Kyle.

“Shit,” he curses. “I'm going to be late for history.”

He likes history. It's his only class with Kyle, who mostly takes advanced classes. There are no advanced history classes for seniors. But it's on the other side of the school and he has trouble getting there in the three minute gap allotted most days, let alone when he's late slipping out of math class. He hurries to gather his books.

“We don't have fourth period today,” Heidi reminds him. “There's that assembly, remember?”

Oh. Right. That assembly. Fuck that assembly. Also, how could he forget about it? Kyle's been ranting about the damn thing for weeks. It's an abstinence-only assembly, funded by the federal government, and the very idea of it had left Kyle fuming.

“It's mandatory, Stan!” Kyle had all but shouted as he paced back and forth across Stan's bedroom. And maybe Stan would have been more supportive if Kyle hadn't been pantsless at the time because really, Kyle does have an amazing ass. It's a little too plump for his skinny frame and Stan imagines that someday he'll grow more into it, there's something about Kyle's body that implies future weight gain. But for now he's just a little too wide in the hips, a little too soft around the thighs. Stan wants to bury his face into Kyle's ass and use it as a pillow. Kyle's low cut briefs do little to hide how perfect a rump he possesses. “This is like, 1950's level education. Don't you understand, Stan? Abstinence-only sex education decreases the likelihood of condom use and leads to an increase in STD and teenage pregnancy! Teens are going to have sex no matter what and they need to learn how to do it safely!”

Teens are going to have sex no matter what? Then what the fuck is Stan doing wrong?

Stan searches for Kyle in the crowd as they're herded into the auditorium by various teaching staff. He's easy to spot from a distance. He's tall enough at five eleven (an embarrassingly full inch over Stan) and his hair gives him another two inches easily, standing out like a flame in the crowd of blonds and brunettes. Luckily, he's near the back of the auditorium, which makes it easier to fight his way to him. He's sitting with Craig and Tweek, the prototype gays of their elementary school. Remember when you had assemblies in elementary school that took up a solid hour just showing off erotic art featuring two of the male students? Stan 'members. This presentation won't be nearly as entertaining.

He greets Kyle with a chaste kiss and takes the seat next to him. On the other side of Kyle the other two boys are in full make-out mode, Tweek on top of Craig, half pushing him onto a horrified looking freshman girl. Craig's hands are gripping Tweek's ass. It's not nearly as nice as Kyle's ass, too skinny, like a deflated balloon through his skinny jeans. But he probably takes dick like a champ. Or maybe Craig bottoms? He's letting Tweek grind against him pretty vigorously right now, the blond seems pretty take charge.

“Stop it,” Kyle hisses, slapping at Tweek's leg. “You're going to get detention again.”

Tweek makes a displeased sound but climbs off of his boyfriend, collapsing back into his seat beside Kyle. His hair is a tangled mess, even more so than usual, and his face is red, lips swollen. He looks debauched. Stan swallows and tries to adjust himself without Kyle noticing. It's not that he's into Tweek, blonds aren't really his thing, but God. What he'd give to see Kyle like that. Preferably on his back, his lips parted, moaning softly, as he begs Stan “Please Stan, put it in me. I need it so bad.”

He pinches at the soft skin of his inner arm, trying to distract himself with pain. He does this a lot. Knowing his luck he'll Pavlov himself into getting a hard-on whenever he stubs his toe.

“I tried to get a protest started for this stupid thing,” Kyle is talking to Craig now, yelling slightly over Tweek's shaking body. “The school wouldn't let me. They said it would be a 'fire hazard.'” Kyle actually makes the quotation marks with his fingers, huffing angrily as he does so. “It's right of assembly, the asswipes.”

“Who cares if there's a bunch of kids hanging out in front with signs?” Craig asks, his nasal voice sarcastic as usual. “What would that really do? They'd still force us to watch this stupid movie and you'd just waste money on paint and cardboard.”

“Well I don't see you coming up with any better ideas,” Kyle challenges. He's switched into prissy mode, mostly because, Stan knows, he hates when his ideas are shut down or belittled.

Craig doesn't respond, just shrugs. Then he reaches for Tweek again and they return to their make-out session. Kyle wrinkles his nose and scoots as far away from them as he can, pressing against Stan's shoulder. He's happy to have him there and puts an arm around his shoulders, shielding him from Craig's groping hands.

The auditorium slowly fills, every seat occupied until there's standing room only for the teachers that arrive late. Stan turns and watches the doors, waiting for them to close as a sign the video will finally begin. He has no wish to watch the stupid thing, of course, but the sooner it starts the sooner it's over with and they can go to lunch. The doors close but open again a minute later. He recognizes Kyle's English teacher Mr. Duprene. He looks like an older version of Kyle, skinny with red hair, except a few more freckles and a more natural lankiness to him. He's also much more flaming. In the gay sense, not as in the red hair sense. He knows Kyle adores him.

The lights finally dim and some dorky-looking guy comes on stage. He's dressed ridiculously, in clothes too young for him that may have been popular ten years ago. And he's trying to use “youth lingo” but it sounds forced and he just comes across as contrite. Stan has nicknamed the man bro-douche in his mind.

“Did he just really use the word bae?” Kyle groans. Stan knows Kyle hates that word. Stan's fine with it. Like, whatever people want to call each other, right? It's no sweat off his blue balls.

“Now I'm going to show you all this super fly video,” the man says at last. “Then we can all have a chill rap session about how awesome abstinence is afterwards!”

Kyle hits himself in the forehead with his fist. Stan grabs his hand, stopping himself from doing it again. He doesn't want him to hurt himself. He intertwines their fingers. The bro-douche walks off stage and the projector starts to flutter from behind them. They're close enough to hear it from their spot in the back.

The title screen is as dull and bland as can be. It looks like it was made using Microsoft PowerPoint circa 1998. The background is a dull blue and the words are displayed in some gaudy gold color with faux metallic stripes to give the illusion of grandeur. A voice reads the title aloud. “Absolutely Abstinence – Why Waiting is Right For You!” There's a tick in the back of Stan's head. That voice is familiar. Nasal, low, just a bit condescending. It's followed by music and Stan knows he recognizes that music. It takes another second before he places it from Monty Python but by then the voice has already continued, the screen suddenly gone black. “Will not be seen today, so that we can bring you the following special presentation!”

New words appear on the screen, black with a glow-in-the-dark green outline around them. “ _Boyfriends Close-Up with a Wide Angle Lens Wearing Hats_.” Stan hears Kyle gasp next to him.

And fuck if this isn't familiar. It's the same music from all those years ago, the same amateur camera work. But back then it had been mostly dogs of various sizes and ages and breeds. There's only one subject here and it works. Somehow it still works. With that stupid, stupid music, as Tweek Tweak, wearing Craig's infamous Chullo hat, reacts with shock each time a camera is suddenly shoved in his face. He's washing dishes in one shot, baking something for the coffee shop in another. In a third he appears to be looking out towards something in a field when the camera is suddenly right there and he falls back, landing on his back in the snow. Everyone in the crowd is laughing. Well, mostly. A few of the teachers, as well as douche-bro, are yelling to turn off the projector. Whoever is controlling it either isn't listening to them or doesn't hear them.

Kyle is cracking up. The music overpowers the screams but the audio is there, barely distinguishable, and when Tweek starts screeching in one particular video about the president knowing where he is from the camera Kyle loses it. He's bent over, holding his stomach with laughter, and Stan grins. He doesn't get to see Kyle let loose like this very often and it's incredibly endearing.

But then there's a gradual switch. The videos change from humorous to, well, sweet? He doesn't know how else to describe it. The music slowly transitions as well, from that dorky British humor music to something melodic and whimsical. The kind of music you'd play over a bag blowing in the wind on a cloudy day. Tweek stops screaming in the videos and now he's smiling as Craig feeds him a piece of cake or his eyes crinkle with humor as he laughs at something the audience is missing off camera. Then he's nuzzling a hand against his cheek, obviously Craig's. The flaps of the hat hide the ring on Craig's finger but who else could it be? The laughter has turned to sounds of “aw,” mostly from the girls. And Stan feels something warm in his chest at their words. “Cute.” A video of Tweek sitting up in bed, naked as far as the audience can tell as blankets cover his waist. The hat is tilted on one side of his head. “Super cute!”

Is Stan too young for nostalgia? For this painful feeling of longing for the past? He hears Kyle join in with the girls. Tweek, on the other side of his boyfriend, makes painful sounding noises of embarrassment. Kyle squeezes Stan's hand and Stan isn't sure if he's feeling the same sense of nostalgia he is, but he hopes so. He might just be happy to know that somebody has successfully wrecked this presentation.

After a good three minutes of various cutesy Tweek videos it takes another turn. A turn that has the teachers pounding on the door to the projector room, demanding to be let in. The lights have been turned on but it's not enough to truly block the video, only dull the image. Stan watches enraptured.

He's still wearing the hat. He's still close up with a wide angle lens. But his lips are parted, eyes almost shut, almost. Just a sliver of blue iris shows. They don't appear to be focused on anything in particular. And those lips, lips that lack the fullness and sensuality of Kyle's, appear positively wanton. They're shining and swollen and it's obvious to anybody who knows how basic human sexuality works that he's been kissed stupid recently.

But that's not why he's so out of it. His eyes are not unfocused because of some amateurish make-out session. His eyes are unfocused because he is undeniable, without question, absolutely, being fucked into the mattress in the video. You can't see that far, of course you can't. The video only shows the top of his head to a little below his ribs. But he's swaying in the video, the hair peeking out from the blue hat moving against the pillow. His entire body is moving. Up, down, up, down. The flaps of the hat bunch up, tangling with his hair. He makes a gasping noise and tilts his head back, eyes closing completely now. His nipples stand out pink and hard. A hand touches his throat.

“Come on Tweek, scream for the camera,” a familiar nasal voice coaxes the blond. “People are waiting for it.”

“Can't,” the blond whines. “Not until I'm closer.”

Teachers are starting to usher students out of the auditorium, starting with the youngest students and the girls. Or trying to anyway. Many of the girls are glued to their seats, refusing to move, refusing to stop watching the video on the large screen before them. Stan sees Kyle sit forward beside him from the corner of his eye. He turns his head and sees Kyle is on the edge of his seat.

The hand on Tweek's throat moves down and one of Tweek's hands comes up. Their fingers intertwine, just as Stan and Kyle's currently are, and the fist they create is pressed against Tweek's chest. The camera's view becomes shakier. Had Craig been using both hands to hold it?

As the onscreen Tweek begins to move with more jerky and sudden movement, undoubtedly in response to Craig becoming more forceful with him from behind the camera, Stan suddenly notices that the blond isn't shaking. Well, he's shaking, but only because Craig is pushing him against the bed. But he's not trembling like he normally is. His body seems absolutely pliant, calm. He's relaxed. He's lying there with what Stan has heard is a decent sized cock buried inside of him and he looks as peaceful as if he's lying in a meadow on a warm spring day. Does Craig's cock have magic healing properties? Can it take away ADD?

He's starting to make squeaking noises on screen. The teachers are yelling at everyone to leave and Stan is surprised that Craig and Tweek are still sitting calmly beside him, watching their softcore porno still playing before them. You'd think they would have already been targeted as suspects in this crime against the eyes of innocents. Then behind-the-camera Craig does something below the screen, somewhere the audience can't see, and on-screen Tweek positively shrieks.

Stan jumps in surprise. Kyle is gripping his hand so hard he feels like he's going to crush his fingers.

Behind-the-camera Craig's breath comes out as heavy and deep on the screen.

“Love you babe.”

“Love you too,” on-screen Tweek breathes back, his voice ragged. And Stan has watched enough porn to know they're both close. He wants to see it. He might not get to see any actual holes being filled or cum flying through the air, but he wants to see Tweek's orgasm face. He wants to hear how loud he does scream when he's clenching around Craig's cock in absolute pleasure.

He doesn't get to. The screen fades to black and the same green and black text appears as on the title screen. There is no voice over this time, no music. Just eight words. “Why wait? Love doesn't care about a ring.”

The person controlling the projector finally turns it off. Or maybe it's running automatically and there is no person back there? Stan doesn't know. He doesn't get to stay and see how the situation unfolds as somebody passes by with a heavy chain of keys. Kyle is pulling him out of the auditorium. Stan assumes he's leading him to the cafeteria, they're early but they have no classes scheduled again until after lunch, but Kyle pulls him past the corner that leads him to the cafeteria. Past their lockers. Past the detention room. He pushes him into Mr. Duprene's empty classroom and turns the large lock from the inside.

Stan stares at him, confused. Kyle licks his lips, his eyes turning down, and Stan flushes. He hurries to hide his erection. It feels like cheating, getting turned on watching another cute boy get fucked that _isn't_ his boyfriend.

Until he notices Kyle is hard to.

“You know, Craig was right,” Kyle says matter-of-factly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Kyle nods. He steps towards Stan and is already unbuttoning his jeans before Stan has a chance to react. “I should try a different form of protest than just waving signs. I'm not my mother. And what's the best way to protest abstinence?”

Well now. Stan's not much of a political activist, but he has a few ideas.

**Author's Note:**

> Before you damn millennials starting jumping down my throats, no, Kyle's asexuality was not cured by a magic penis. He was never asexual. He's a somewhat repressed seventeen year old boy too full of himself to admit that maybe he's a bit scared of having a dick up his ass.


End file.
